


Domestically Challenged

by AirgiodSLV



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-01
Updated: 2005-05-01
Packaged: 2019-07-20 11:32:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16136369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirgiodSLV/pseuds/AirgiodSLV
Summary: It didn’t occur to Elijah until he was walking through the front door with Dom, Dom’s bags, Dom’s boxes, and a considerable amount of Dom’s stuff still on the way that his house was, kindly put, a complete wreck.





	Domestically Challenged

**Author's Note:**

> A series of drabbles. For [](https://thepsychicclam.livejournal.com/profile)[thepsychicclam](https://thepsychicclam.livejournal.com/) on her birthday.

“Come live with me,” Elijah said across the ocean. “And be my love.” He grinned, took a drag from his cigarette and listened to Dom’s tinny snort. “We’ll do something involving shepherds.”

“You daft cunt,” Dom responded affectionately, and Elijah grinned wider, knowing his offer had been accepted. Dom in England was good for no one. Dom in L.A. couldn’t be more perfect. “I’ll be there in three weeks.”

Elijah hung up the phone feeling giddy, elated, on top of the world. He pumped a fist into the air, threw himself onto the bed and laughed until he couldn’t breathe.

 

 

It didn’t occur to Elijah until he was walking through the front door with Dom, Dom’s bags, Dom’s boxes, and a considerable amount of Dom’s stuff still on the way that his house was, kindly put, a complete wreck.

“I’m not a naturally cleanly person!” he protested when Dom shook his head, but it was okay because Dom wasn’t either, and Elijah had the photographs from New Zealand to prove it, so neither of them minded too much. Things would work themselves out; they always did. As long as they had a bed available tonight, he could clean up tomorrow.

 

 

Dom clucked at the contents (or lack thereof, rather) of the refrigerator, and Elijah paused in the doorway leading to the kitchen, frozen like a deer in headlights. “I, uh,” he said intelligently, and then frowned worriedly. “I don’t cook,” he confessed, and at Dom’s look he amended hastily, “Much,” because he didn’t want Dom to think that he was completely inept.

“It’s okay,” Dom said easily, swinging the door shut and leaning back against the refrigerator. “I do.”

Elijah had him pressed hard against the fridge before the discussion could go any further, and neither of them really minded.

 

 

“Oi!” Dom protested loudly when Elijah’s hands slipped and he dropped the mixing bowl into the sink, soapy water splashing over both of them, the counter, the faucet, and the majority of the already clean dishes.

“Oops?” Elijah giggled, tipsy from too much wine with dinner but making a noble attempt at appearing sober, and Dom’s expression of ire faded instantly, giving way to affectionate amusement.

“Come here, you sot,” Dom chided, and Elijah obediently discarded the sponge so that Dom could wipe his face clean and kiss the bitter soap taste from his lips. “You’ve bubbles on your nose.”

 

 

“Have you taken out the trash at all this week?” Dom asked, and Elijah hesitated because a) he couldn’t remember, and b) he probably hadn’t.

“No,” he answered after dropping his book and rolling over for a quick peek at the trash bin beside the bed, counting up the used condoms and the days since the last garbage pick up. “Why, have you?”

Dom’s snort of laughter carried down the hallway. “You’re hopeless,” he said, and Elijah silently agreed. But when he shamefacedly snuck down the hallway with garbage bags in tow, Dom just smiled and didn’t say a word.

 

 

When the whites came out of the laundry a pale but decidedly rose-coloured shade of pink, Elijah was at his wits’ end and about to give up all hope. “I’m sorry,” he wailed, and Dom stared at the countless numbers of white undershirts and socks (and one red pair of boxers that remained cheerfully unfaded) for a long moment before he shook his head and smiled.

“It’s okay,” he said, and pulled Elijah to him with one crooked finger threaded through a belt loop, hips and mouths bumping gently together at nearly the same exact moment. “I love you anyway.”


End file.
